


Just another day

by spacecleavage



Series: There's a cow in my moo [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Bellarke, F/M, Little bit of smut, Modern AU, There wasn't meant to be smut, actually it was meant to be a one shot or drabble, bellarke AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-25
Updated: 2014-10-08
Packaged: 2018-02-18 18:08:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2357336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacecleavage/pseuds/spacecleavage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt – Bellarke AU – tried breaking into my flat while they were drunk because they thought it was theirs</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Someone had been bashing at her door for five minutes at 2:15 in the morning and when she had finally gone to check the door there had been no one there. 

“Stupid drunk idiots,” Clarke mumbled to herself as went back to the kitchen, deciding that she would get a glass of warm milk. She heard some rattling from across the hall and assumed that the idiots had found someone else to annoy.

The lights in her kitchen flicked on, lighting up her entire living space. The little table she had got at a charity shop in the middle of the kitchen space, along with the mismatched chairs, the old couch from her parent’s garage and the pillows she had bought from a high end store on a whim. The TV she had saved up for, sitting in the corner of her tiny apartment, the desk from a clearance sale and the couple of cheap little book shelves she had stacked up. She looked around her kitchen, the small space housing her assorted array of cooking implements she had be buying ever since she had left home.

She pulled open the fridge, checking for up to date milk and that she actually had milk. She hadn’t been shopping for a while and her kitchen was looking a little bare. 

“Damn,” she mumbled to the fridge and closed the door and again, stalking back to her bedroom and turning off the lights as she went. She slipped around the corner, her fingers trailing along the wall. 

She slipped beneath the covers, enjoying the lingering warmth in her sheets. She curled deeper into them her fingers reaching out to try and find the warmest part of her bed. Her questing fingers found… soft skin and strong muscles.

“What the hell?!” she exclaimed, pulling back and flipping on the bedside light and turning to find out who was in her apartment, her bed.

“What the fuck?!” the other person cried out. Clarke reached for any weapon she could use, her recommended book on art history from her uni and got out of her bed, holding the book as a weapon. He climbed out of the bed slowly, revealing his lack of clothing. Her eyes widening.

“What are you doing in my bed?” Clarke asked, studying the stranger in her bedroom. He had olive skin with a smattering of freckles over his flat nose, her eyes were drawn down to his lush lips. They kept travelling down to discover his broad shoulders, defined pectoral muscles, defined abs, slim hips and a pair of denim jeans that clung to his muscular thighs. Her eyes flew back to his hands (she was a hands girl from way back) and found them to be large and inexcusably masculine, his biceps seemed to be unfairly tensing and un-tensing before her eyes. She wondered what they would feel like under her fingers, how they would react to be being squeezed…

“You’re in my bed,” she looked back to his eyes as he spoke, even his voice had just the right mix of gravel and smoothness to do things to her insides. His dark, dark eyes framed by his sooty lashes. Her eyes danced to his mop of curly hair, hair that looked like it would be amazing to run her fingers through.

“No, this is my flat. Look, that’s my divider with my pictures,” she pointed to the divider decorated with range of pictures from her early life and parents, to her travels around India and South East Asia, as well as Africa and some of Europe. As well as her crazy friends, old and new.

“Oh,” it was only then she picked up on his slight swaying and the glaze over his eyes. Oh hell, he’s blind drunk.

“You’re drunk,” she said softly, she lowered the book slightly, not putting it down though, just because he was drunk didn’t mean that he wasn’t going to attack her.

“Had a few drinks with some mates I haven’t seen since high school,” he gave her a smug smile, which came off being a little dopy due to his state. 

“Why are you in my place?” she frowned, clearly he thought that this was his place. Maybe his drunkenness had let him think that.

“I thought it was mine, I tried the front door but I had forgotten my keys, but I knew I had left the window open, so I went and climbed through it and here we are…” he gestured around the room, to her old chair in the corner which had her clothes strewn across it.

“I’m going to regret this, but do you want to sleep it off on my couch?” She pointed out towards her living room.

“I don’t think I could do that to you, Princess,” she frowned confused at the nickname until she remembered what shirt she had worn to bed. It had been a gift from her dad and was emblazoned with the words Princess and a little crown sat below it.

“I- please, it’s easier than you trying to get home alone in the dark,”

He nodded his head and headed out into the dark living space. Clarke heard a crash and followed him out, the lights flickering on, showing him trying to pick up one of her little set of drawers.

She offered to get him a thicker blanket but he shook his head, claiming to be quite hot already. He snickered at his own little joke as he settled down on the couch. Clarke shook her head and turned to leave.

“Thanks Princess,” he smiled, his eyes closed and breathing already evening out.

“No problem.” Clarke went back to her room

And the lights turned off.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

His weight was settled between her hips and her legs had curled around him, pulling him closer to her. She could feel his want pressing right against her core, and she dragged her fingers through his curly hair, tugging it so his lips met hers again.

It was like fireworks and explosions and earthquakes all rolled into one, her whole earth seemed to be rocked from a simple kiss. Her lips parted of their own accord when his teeth dragged her lower lip into his mouth and he sucked down on it.

She felt his hand go to her breasts, he tested their weight and them gave them a healthy squeeze that had her arching into his hands. His finger tips lightly found her nipple and tugged on it, just as he gave a slight thrust of hips and pleasure sparked inside Clarke rising quickly when he gave another sharp thrust.

Somewhere in the middle of his finding her breasts and his thrusting, his lips had gone from her lips to her neck and he was now sucking hard on the spot just over her pulse. 

This left her own mouth free to make noises and by the way he gave his hips a particularly hard thrust after one of her moans, she knew he liked them.

She could feel herself growing closer to the edge, she could see it right in front of her she just needed a little push over the edge.

His hand went down from her breasts to slip into her underwear and found her clit, his fingers circling it and push down on the sensitive nerve bundle. It was the little push she needed. Suddenly she was falling off the edge and soaring at the same time.


	2. Chapter 2

The sound of someone rifling through her fridge woke her the next morning. She shot out of bed, panicking before recalling the night before. Not the hazy dream that still clung to her but of the man who had slept on her couch. The man whose name she didn’t know.

Clarke gingerly picked up her soft dressing gown and tied it tightly around her waist. She opened the door and peered around the corner to see the dark haired stranger (still as shirtless as her dream) was going through her fridge clearly looking for something to eat or drink.

“Hi,” she spoke up as she strode purposely around the corner and made it look like she knew what she exactly what she was doing. Instead of the trembling mess that she was inside.

“Sorry I don’t have much food, I was going to go shopping later today, after going for a run.” she lent back against the counter and tried not to blush at her memories of him.

“Oh, right… I might just get out of your hair,” he gave her an akward and didn't quite look up and meet her eyes.

“Ok, yeah, that sounds good,” Clarke gave an weak smile back.

“So, I’m going to go before this gets any more awkward,” he spoke after a few moments of silence.

“Sounds like a plan,” she turned around to rustle through her cupboards so he wouldn't see how disappointed she was.

She gestured for him to go and get his shirt. 

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

University started without a hitch, Clarke was still getting used to living in Australia. It was so much different from the States, and not just the driving. She was still trying to get used that, she tried to stay away from cars as much as possible because of that.

Her days consisted of getting up early to go for a run, then buying a coffee and muffin from the café as she came back. She would then have a shower at home before the short trip to uni on the bus. She’d have classes for a couple of hours of the day, grab a healthy lunch, or food she had prepared herself. She’d stay there until 5, 5:30 and catch the bus back home. She’d go either home, or hang out with some of people in her course. She’d been going to some of the social events so she could try and branch out but it was very hard when she liked her house. She’d have dinner around 7, something she had cooked, or on her longer days she’d order from one of the take out places around her apartment. 

She’d walk to them because they were only about two minutes down the main road.

Her pattern changed when one night she came home after a long day stuck in the library, she found a pizza. Right there on her porch, from her regular place. 

She frowned, she had thought about ordering some tonight. She opened the lid and found the vegetarian that she liked (not because she was vegetarian but she just liked the taste better).

She peered around her house and found no evidence of anyone there.

Strange

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

The next she found a book of Australian slang and a note.

‘I hope you liked the pizza, it’s an apology for me breaking me into your flat.

That drunk guy,

Bellamy (in Unit 4)’

She blinked and found herself smiling without even realising it. So that’s his name, at least she wouldn’t have to keep calling him ‘that hot guy that broke into my place’. She stirred the sugar into her decaf coffee. The memory of his voice, body, eyes and hands began to haunt her.

She could almost feel them on her now, his hands sliding around her hips, playing with the edges of her yoga pants, fingers dipping in occasionally. Clarke found herself leaning back fully against him, Bellamy. His hands pulled her closer, she could feel his heaviness pressing against her lower back. The shape of him outlined in his old jeans, the material of it rubbed the skin between her shirt and pants.

Clarke swivelled her hips, feeling the heat in the pit of her stomach grow larger and larger consuming her, pulling her deeper into her arousal.

His lips were sucking at her junction of her neck and shoulder, little sounds escaped her lips as his hands went back up and felt her breasts. Without any preamble one of his hands slipped right into her underwear, bypassing her clit to go straight to entrance. His long fingers pressed against it before going in, she threw her head back against him and it felt like her legs had turned to jelly, the only reason she was still standing was because he was pushing her into the bench. They scissored inside of her, his fingers somehow twisting in the limited space, she felt one of his feet move her legs further apart to give him access. She moaned then, she felt like she was so close, even though a moment ago she wasn’t even thinking about this.

Her own hand went up and buried in his hair, while the other grasped the hand that disappeared into her yoga pants. Her nails dug into him as he twisted a particular way and dragged another throaty moan from her. She could feel a smirk against her skin and her mouth opened, words spilling from her lips. “Please Bellamy,”

The sound of a car horn broke her concentration, she found the coffee she had been stirring was now luke warm.

“Damn,” she mumbled and drank it in one go.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Her pattern was again changed when she actually made a real friend, not one she had many classes with, but she was glad there. Her friend was another foreign student, she was from France and was actually studying a teaching degree so she could teach french in schools and non-french speakers. Morgane her name was, Clarke had her over to her flat a few times and they had bonded over the strangeness that was Australia. She stopped spending so much time at home because of her new friend and she almost completely forgot about her drunken bedfellow.

Almost


End file.
